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 Shade off to mournful cypresses

With the white amaranths underneath.

Even while I look, I can but heed

The restless sands' incessant fall,

Importunate hours that hours succeed,

Each clamorous with its own sharp need,

And duty keeping pace with all.

Shut down and clasp the heavy lids;

I hear again the voice that bids

The dreamer leave his dream midway

For larger hopes and graver fears:

Life greatens in these later years,

The century's aloe flowers to-day!

Yet, haply, in some lull of life,

Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,

The worldling's eyes shall gather dew,

Dreaming in throngful city ways